


For and Against

by TheDarkSide



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Crack, BAMF Umino Iruka, I Don't Even Know, Kinda but not really, M/M, Swearing, What Was I Thinking?, and screams like a girl, awkward Madara, madara has a spidey sense, madara is shy, rair pair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-07-29 14:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16265900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarkSide/pseuds/TheDarkSide
Summary: Uchiha Madara has been blessed (cursed) with a little extra of seemingly everything, including the ability to get under peoples skin. He is NOT to blame, he just doesn't water down his words (isn't that a form of lying?).Umino Iruka is an Academy Instructor. That means he takes no shit and gives no quater in regards to idiot children, be they seven or twenty seven. When Uchiha Madara earns his ire, Iruka decides to show him why Prank Master Umino is king of the student body of Konoha.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time in my life that I've ever published something, so go honest on me. As you've guessed I just... mashed Founding Era and Shipunden together, I have no clue how this turns out. I guess we'll all find out together.

**Angry Geese**

 

“Iruka, I know that face.”

“Iruka isn’t here right now. Mr. Umino will be with you shortly, he has some Important Business to attend to first.”

“Iruka! IRUKA UMINO, NO! He’s one of the most powerful shinobi in HISTORY FOR FUCK SAKE! IRUKA!”

“I believe there is a phrase detailing size and how one uses it that would draw a perfect parallel to this situation. Please excuse me. Genma, you’ll cover my shift?”

“Oh but of course. Let me go Katon some popcorn real quick.”

 

Iruka tightens his ponytail. The red flush has simmered down to settle just above the neckline of his uniform blacks; embers heralding the rising of a phoenix that the Village Hidden in the Leaves has learned to adore and fear in almost-equal measure. He strips off his Chuunin vest and throws it in the general direction of the Mission Desk as he passes through the open door. He is Off Duty and of a Personal Mission as of this moment, and it would be most unseemly of him to go about the rest of his day wearing a symbol of his rank and Village. Uchiha Madara would be quaking in his reformed sandals if he had any idea of the Wrath he had just brought upon himself.

 

The uncharacteristic silence at the Mission Desk is broken by Shiranui Genma, who is rooting around in a filing cabinet for the microwave popcorn he  **knows** Kotetsu and Izumo keep for that quiet time between the witching hour and the ass crack of dawn. “Five hundred ryo says Umino will be spanking Madaras’ bare ass over the railing of the Academy with his own gunbai by next week Tuesday.” Never let it be said that Genma underestimates his friends abilities: Iruka goes big, and everyone else goes home crying. Tears of laughter or trauma, it really depends on who they are. “What’s this about five hundred ryo?” Are the words that leap out of Senju Hashiramas’ mouth upon entering the Mission Room. He’s here to see what all the quiet is about. A quiet Mission Room is a Disaster Desk in the making. It is not, he quietly reminds himself, because he is afraid of the result of the suspicious absence of one yelling Chuunin. Genma, who is blowing a small (and astonishingly steady) Katon into one of the steel bins that is currently devoid of paper, looks up at the ex-Hokage once he’s done. “Sit back and relax Shodaime-sama. This is going to be a spectacle to behold.” Hashirama is man enough to know when not to ask. He is a married man after all.

 

Several hours later the rustling of the wind in the leaves and the inane chatter of the Village inhabitants is broken by howling, shrieking screams from the usually pridefully quiet Uchiha district. There’s no koi pond sounding splash, so it’s not Izuna, and Obito is in the Tower. Sasuke wouldn’t be caught dead allowing a noise like that too make its way out of his mouth, and there’s universal doubt that there’s space for it next to that pole that has yet to un-stick itself from up his ass. All heads turn as one in the direction of a sudden burst of what is most certainly at least Maiming Intent that lashes out in thick tendrils of oppressively dark chakra. Hashirama looks worriedly at his wife, but Uzumaki Mito does nothing more than smile that knowing smile behind an unfurled fan and rest a hand on her husbands forearm. Tobirama, sitting across from them, feels no guilt whatsoever as he allows the unholy lovechild of an evil grin and a sadistic smirk to creep slowly across his lips (it bears a sideways resemblance to the look Mito had worn when she introduced him to the more perverse uses of her chakra chains). “Tobi… What have you done?” Hashirama side-eyes his sibling and only manages to suppress a shiver by sinking his fingers into the wooden armrests of the oddly comfortable tea house chair that he is occupying. He will replace it later, he thinks. “I am nothing but a spectator in this, Anija. It may surprise you, but there are other people who have it out for your best friend.” Comes the reply, followed by  the muted clack of an ivory tile against wood.

 

Before the God of Shinobi can utter so much as another word, the quiet chiming of the bell hanging at the door draws his attention to a scarred man entering the teahouse. He is dressed in uniform blacks and is tucking a spool of ninja wire into a pocket alongside what appear to be explosion tags. The first thought that crosses his mind is that there seem to be an unusual amount of pockets on his pants, far more than those that are standard issue. The second is that the man bears an odd sort of resemblance to himself, what with the tan skin and the brown hair, and that he is nigglingly familiar. The soft impish smile, however, would be far more at home on Tobiramas’ or Izunas’ face. It’s a special sort of disturbing to see it on a face that so resembles his own. It reminds him of the one his brother wears when the aforementioned Uchiha manages to dig himself a particularly deep proverbital grave with his cousin Touka.

 

The next to enter the tea house, a few short minutes later, arrives with a slam of the door that is so hard, it sends the little bell careening out of its holder and across the room to bury itself a good three centimeters into the wall above Hashiramas head. The new arrival is silhouetted in the doorway against the late afternoon sun, although the puffy swathe of what must be hair gives those present a good idea of who this is. It is when Madara takes a few steps forward and out of the glare, that he has to make a valiant attempt at suppressing laughter. The only noise to be heard is the politely quiet clink as the man with the scar sets his steaming cup of green tea down on the counter.

 

Madaras footsteps are slow and at a deliberate volume (not quite stomping, this is almost worse in its calmness) as he crosses the floor to join his friend and rival at the table. The sound of a chair scraping and wood creaking under tightly coiled irate chakra doesn’t quite manage to drown out the ‘rubber duck being trod on slowly’ sort of noise that escapes the Shodai Hokage as he gets an unimpeded look at their newest companion. Mitos’ grip turns crushing as the threateningly calm utterance of “Not. One. Word.” leaves Madaras’ mouth. It is accompanied by several snow white feathers fluttering down from his hair and coming to rest on the table amidst the components of their tea. Or at least, from where that wild ebony mane  **should** be. 

 

Izuna, who has been quietly (for him at least) playing (and losing in a most spectacular fashion) a friendly game of shogi against Tobirama, loudly sucks in a deep breath of air. Which he then proceeds to hold, as his face creeps slowly upward from pale, to pink, and then straight through red to a mildly impressive sort of mix between deep plum and fuchsia. There is an anticipatory stillness in which it is as if everyone else at the table has also ceased breathing before the younger of the Uchiha brothers makes a break for it. He leaps right over the table and out of the open window above the scarred mans head. The noise of patrons going back to their afternoon tea is overshadowed by the sound of what must be a hippopotamus in the throes of torturously painful death that echoes down the street in Izunas’ wake.

 

Several more minutes pass by with Madaras’ deep growls and grumbles emerging from under a head of downy soft and fluffy white feathers (there is a collective urge to pet the angry Uchiha, but they are all capable of a pretending restraint). The quiet scrape of a chair draws Tobiramas’ attention from where his brother is idly playing with one of the fallen feathers as he stares longingly at those still on the head of the angry Uchiha, to the exiting tanned Chuunin. Red eyes meet liquid brown across the room, and the raised eyebrow he sends (to who is in his opinion the best thing that ever happened to his Academy) is countered by the sternest Teachers Glare he has ever encountered. Instructor and Founder, friends in the face of a sea of ‘troublesome’ students and bureaucratic piranhas, share a barely noticeable nod of amicable greeting.


	2. Adoring Fans

Madara is sitting in his office reading through a C-Rank mission report when the first one finds him. Or at least, the first one that he sees. The red and black ladybug is crawling along his thumb when it catches his attention, and he’s grateful he’s wearing gloves. Lifting his hand, he moves to the window and sets it down on the sill outside and slamming the window shut. Little does he know, but this is the omen that foretells a strange day for him.

 

Madara has no fucking idea what he’s done to deserve this, but it’s Not Funny. And he’s not going to be sorry either, he does not do remorse. The little creeps are EVERYWHERE. He has yet to enter a room without at least twelve ladybugs on his person. He’s tempted to go outside and Katon himself just so he can rid himself of the fuckers. As of this moment he is in a meeting of Clan Heads as the strongest Uchiha, although it is Itachi that is actually reigning Head at the moment (Never mind that the man is almost blind, he is on an ambassadorial mission to Suna). He is trying very hard to ignore the little red and black spots he can see crawling on his indigo robes out of the corner of his eye. He is also fervently hoping that he is imagining the feeling of little legs on his bare chest, as screaming like a girl will be most embarrassing in present company. Maybe if he pays them no mind, they will all magically fucking disappear. He can only hope. Never mind that both Inuzuka Kiba (that is the name of the feral looking woman in the corner? It will earn him Hashirama Crocodile Tears if he is wrong and he really wants to avoid that) and Aburame Shibi have yet to look away from him. Or at least he thinks Shibi is looking at him, it’s damn hard to tell. He will ignore them too, he decides.

 

There is a short lull in the discussion, during which all he can heat is the scratching of the pen from the tan Chuunin taking notes (Kami it’s like the man is everywhere at once, it’s disturbing). The Senju is opening his mouth to say something, but that Kiba woman beats him to it; “Uchiha, what’s with he perfume?” She has balls, he’ll give her that. All is quiet apart from the scritching, and all Heads turn to face him. “Excuse me?” Because who is he if he can’t out growl her. She has to be talking to someone else, albeit that he is the only ‘Uchiha’ present and accounted for. “You smell strongly of pheromones.” It’s the Aburame who speaks this time. His remark is met with a sharp “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.” Inuzuka grins wolfishly at him, but Hashirama speaks before she can and thankfully brings things back on track. Madara could almost swear he sees ponytail Chuunin smirking at his notes.

 

The meeting lasts another half an hour, and Madara manages to stay awake by making a game of rolling his eyes without anyone seeing him. He’s not sure if it’s entirely successful, but who’s going to call him on it anyway. By now he has had to brush ladybugs off his sleeves at least a dozen times. The Clan Heads have said not a word of it thus far, so he continues to pretend they can’t see him do it. The meeting is adjourned and he is almost the first one out the door when Kiba presses him against the door frame and traps him between her surprisingly muscular arms. “If you wanted someone to warm your bed,” she flat out ignores his indignant spluttering, and he can’t flail for fear of touching her ample breasts, “you could just have asked. There’s really no need to advertise your wanting a good fucking to all with a nose.” All the other Clan Heads have frozen to look at the pair of them, and the ANBU with the honey blonde hair standing next to that Chuunin has his head quirked like a curious bird. Madara has half a mind to call him out on his shoulders that are so clearly shaking with muted laughter, most unprofessional, but one of the numerous ladybugs chooses that moment to make a break for it straight up his nose. He lets out a Most Manly Shriek before Shunshining to the doors of the Tower, where he proceeds to hack and cough until he expels the little fucker through his mouth. Today just really Isn’t His Day. Again.

 

It’s dead quiet in the meeting room. Or at least it would be if one were to ignore the strange squeals coming from ANBU Genmas’ mask, which echo and distort horribly due to the porcelain. Iruka tucks his pen back into its’ pocket among its' brethren, spare hair ties and a piece or two of chalk, before collecting the meetings’ minutes and tapping them into a neat stack. He kicks Genmas’ ankle (rather hard if the muffled yelp of surprised pain is anything to go by) and brushes past Tsume and out the door. She turns her self-satisfied smirk on Shibi “Was it something I said?”

 

Madara has learnt his lesson, and is now breathing past slightly parted lips and tightly clenched teeth, just in case one of those red and black fuckers makes a break for it up his nose again. He is in the library hunting for a book on insect pheromones (he  **is** a practical man,  **shut up Izuna** ), because the Head Bitch must have a ridiculously twisted sense of humor to tell him he smells like he “wants a good fucking”. So what if he’s in a dry spell, eighteen months sans sex is not the end of his world. His already frayed nerves are approaching dangerously shot, as he can’t find so much as a sideways mention of ladybug hormones in any of the biology books that have made an attempt on his life by leaping off the highest shelves at his head. Asking a librarian to help him, while a blow to his pride, will not kill him. First he will have to find one of the slippery little bastards.

 

Kami, he has decided, is fucking with him for shits and giggles. He has been up and down this gods forsaken library, and has seen neither hide nor hair of the fucking librarians. In fact, he has yet to find another living soul that is not housed within a spotted carapace, and the books are out to get him. He is about five Sage-damned seconds from Grand Fireballing this place to the ground when he sees a bushy brown ponytail disappearing behind one of the towering shelves. “You!” He’d been starting to wonder if there has been some sort of apocalypse that has left him as the sole survivor. Perhaps he should ask Hashirama to take a look at his head later, one of the books may have given him a concussion. He sprints around the corner and makes a grab for the fluffy ‘tail. He jerks it and the attached owner around to face him, avoiding the elbow to his gut and the kick to the groin in the process. The book aimed at his already much abused head manages to ruffle his (thankfully  **black and non feathered** ) hair on its’ way past. Liquid brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes meet his still-black ones. He hardly wants to go around scaring the librarians of the Village People by aiming active Sharingan at them, the Senju Idiot would cry on him again if he did. Madara pulls the man closer. “Uchiha-sama.” Accompanies the breath that tickles the tip of his nose. It’s that Chuunin again. Madara is reasonably certain that this one is a Shadow Clone, the man cannot truly be everywhere at once. “I’m looking for a book.” Perhaps he shouldn’t stand quite so close.The Chuunin blinks slowly at him (his lashes brush his cheeks holy gods) and looks slowly from side to side. Madara feels the niggling twinge of embarrassment (or a ladybug) on the back of his neck. That look is calling him an idiot in calibres of politeness he thought only Mito could wield, and he can almost hear her calm and slow “Yes Madara, books” in his ear. He should clarify. “Ladybugs.” That’s… not much better. Gods it would be so much easier to communicate with people if he could just Genjutsu his thoughts into their heads. The Chuunin lets him stew in his own discomfort until the point where he wishes to bang his head against the nearest shelf until he passes out, before replying. “I assume you wish to be rid of them?” Is what he says while Madara takes this prime opportunity to instill more social awkwardness by watching the a ladybug with one black dot meander along the scar crossing the mans’ nose. “Yes.” Let’s get this over with so he can go home and cringe himself into an parallel universe, where he’s less socially impaired and people don’t have to talk to him to understand him. The man turns to lead the way, and Madara keeps a hold of the surprisingly soft fluffy ponytail. He’s still not sure that the man isn’t a hallucination and that he won’t up and disappear the moment Madara lets go.

 

Madara spends the rest of his evening at home, submerged in a bathtub containing a mixture of beer, vinegar and bicarbonate of soda, as per the books instructions. He is happy that no ladybugs join him in bed that night. He probably also wouldn’t want to, as after three showers he still smells of something that is faintly reminiscent of a hungover Hashirama after a weekend of drunken gambling. His hair is oddly soft, though.


	3. Raining Cats and Dogs

Madara is woken by a painful pulling on his hair when he tries to roll onto his other side. He opens his eyes to glare blearily at a cat. That is not his cat. But it’s fine, he likes cats, even when they sit on his hair (which is still wonderfully soft after his brewery bath a few days prior). Trying to push the feline off earns him a swipe at his hands, and he almost regrets not sleeping with his gloves on. When he starts tugging his mane out from under the cats arse, the little beast digs its’ claws in and sits up. Brown eyes give him a Condescending Asshole look over a faded scar. “What did I do to deserve this?” He knows self pity is unbecoming of someone who is on equal footing with Hashirama in battle, but this is his bloody bed and he has every right to mope in it if the mood strikes him. His fluffy house guest decides that this is an appropriate moment to knead in his hair and pull it, as if to augment his misery with yet more pain. The bastards purring is loud, self satisfied and almost sounds like slow chuckles. Madara yanks his hair out from under it in retribution. He does not enjoy being laughed at, thank you very much. The furry asshole flicks its ears at him and departs with an annoyed huff thrown over its shoulder.

 

Madaras’ brain is itching. It’s that particularly annoying ticklish sensation that he gets when he knows he’s missing something important, and is usually a good early warning preceding Izuna doing something that will earn him a pond trip. He stalks (it is  **not** flouncing, no matter how much others misnomer it so) to his bathroom with the intent of taking a quick shower, and almost falls over a particularly large tabby in his hallway. Also not his cat, and this is getting suspicious. His windows are warded. Not specifically against cats, but they fall under the category ‘larger than small moth’, so they shouldn’t be getting in. Shower first, he thinks because he likes routine when he’s home. He picks up the black cat in the stall (he’s learnt his lesson and is wearing gloves) and deposits the hissing demon in his sink.

 

His kitchen is  **overrun** , and now he’s getting angry. He can’t take half a step without tripping over some stray beast, and is hissing right back at them by now. Maybe if he’s louder and angrier they’ll fuck off. It helps, for about as long as it takes him to have breakfast. There are more on his doorstep when he leaves for the tower and  **fuck all this shit** . Fine, he thinks, if they won’t piss off I’ll make ‘em. hengeing into a dog seems like a spectacular idea, until he feels the tingle of a seal activating between his shoulder blades. In a panic, he tries to release the jutsu. To no avail. He does it again, and again, and again and  **nothing is working he’s so fucking fucked** . “FUCK!” At least he can still speak. “Aniki, is that you?” He’s never been so happy to hear Izunas’ voice in his life. Until he turns to look at him. The little shit is shaking with restrained laughter, and Madaras’ fur stands on end in anger. He snaps at the cats lounging at his feet before making an angry lunge at his soon to be deceased sibling.

 

Iruka, meanwhile, is watching the proceedings from Madaras’ porch rail. On the outside he’s as calm and collected as any self respecting feline. Intenaly, however, he is howling with laughter. This is the most fun he’s had in years, he snickers to himself as he watches the great Dane sized shaggy dog with halfway floppy ears that will be Madara Uchiha for the next twenty four hours chase his human younger brother down the street. Iruka climbs up the eaves and makes his way over the roofs of the Uchiha district to the marketplace. Once there, he picks Tobiramas’ white hair out from the crowd, where the Senju is walking leisurely next to Mito, and alights on his shoulder. “Good morning Tobirama-sama.” Iruka is nothing if not polite, form be damned. Mito raises a well-plucked eyebrow at him as the man whose shoulder he is sitting on returns his greeting by way of soft scratchings on his chest. 

 

“OW NII-SAN DON’T BITE SO HARD!” Draws the trios gaze to Izuna as the Uchiha comes hurtling around the corner toward them. Shinobi and civilian alike clear a path as he makes a beeline for his best friend,a very angry looking black dog with a snarling muzzle full of fabric snapping at his heels. Izuna darting behind the Senju and the Uzumaki stops Madara in his tracks and provides Iruka with the perfect opportunity to leap down from Tobiramas’ shoulder. “Come back here you traitorous little coward! Tell me what you did!” Madara is far too busy yelling at his brother to pay attention to Iruka, who cannot resist the opening. The canine Uchiha makes the most satisfying ‘Little Girl Screaming’ noise when Iruka darts between his legs, making sure to brush his tail along Madaras now very exposed belly and testicles, before sprinting into the crowd and dispelling the henge in a discreetly small puff of smoke. He turns in time to see Madara attempt to cross all four paws to protect his dignity, and crashing face first into the paving for his efforts.

 

Madara is beyond furious. He rallys his legs beneath himself, only just remembering that he has FOUR now and therefore should not try and stand on the rear two lest he make even more of a fool of himself. He glares at the gathered crowd, Sharingan blazing and itching toward Mangekyou, scanning for the little brown beast that groped him in public. “Madara,” and he cannot help (doesn’t want to really) how his ears press flat against his head and his lips curl to bare sharp fangs at Mitos’ cool tone, “perhaps it would be best if we discussed this in a more private setting.” He glares at the witch, because he knows her well enough to hear the implied threat in her words should he fail to comply. Tobirama bids them farewell, face as neutral as ever, and departs for the Academy. Izuna flees to the Uzumakis’ right side when Madara comes to walk at her left. He spits out the piece of his brothers robes still dangling from his mouth, and is a little disgusted by himself when he sees the large drool stain on it. He easily keeps pace with Mitos’ dignified stroll, even though he’s most tempted to snap at her to  **hurry the fuck up** because he’s a proud man and this is  **undignifying** . It takes them half an hour to get to the house the witch shares with that puppy she calls a husband, and Madara is halfway convinced she took the longest route possible.

 

Iruka is in the middle of class when the knock comes. Tobiramas’ cool chakra brushes against the wards of the classroom, and Iruka breaks off his lecture on the importance of meditation in chakra development with a warning look at his class before he opens the door. “Tobirama-sama, is there something I can do for you?” Tobiramas’ mouth quirks, and there is a twinkle of humour in his eyes when he replies: “Iruka-sensei, I wonder if I might ask a kindness of you. It seems a colleague of mine is a little… short of opposable thumbs at the moment. Would it be alright if I left him with you for the day? The problem should resolve itself within the next eighteen hours.” The Senju steps aside to reveal a familiar large black dog, sitting with its back to them and Iruka almost gives the game away by laughing. “Of course, it’s no problem at all. Please, come inside Uchiha-sama.”

 

Madara does  **not** agree with this plan. He’s a grown man, and is more than capable of taking care of himself. He doesn’t need to be coddled. When Mito sends him to the Academy, he’s almost hopeful that it’s to get a second opinion on his seal. Preferably one that  **isn’t** ‘it should fix itself before tomorrow’. Imagine his surprise when the white demon informs him he’s to be  **babysat** . By a Chuunin no less, as the only remaining Hatake is running escort on Itachis’ mission in Suna. To say he’s unhappy would be a gross understatement, and it only gets worse when he turns to see the Chuunin in question is the Everywhere-at-once person he keeps running into. Madara almost turns litteral tail and runs when he edges into a classroom to be greeted by enamored stares from twenty six-year-olds and a loud collective shout of ‘PUPPY!’. Backing up gets him a door to his ass and nowhere to go, so he elects to stand (hide, hide,  **hide** ) behind Iruka-sensei as the man tries to explain that their fured guest is in fact a shinobi in disguise and  **not** a puppy and is  **not to be petted** .

 

He spends the morning under Iruka-sensei’s desk, away from the adoring eyes twenty admirers who want to do nothing more than cuddle him even after he tells them he is Uchiha Madara and has killed more people than they have fingers and toes. He’s never felt so unimpressive in his life. So he resigns himself to lying under the teachers table on his side and is a little surprised when the man’s voice lulls him into a semi-asleep state by his second hour. He’s having a fuzzy passing thought that being a dog is almost pleasant when a bell rings (it’s horribly loud with ears this sensitive) and Iruka-sensei lets the shrieking terrors out for their break. He sits up when the man approaches him, and nods when asked if he’d be willing to accompany him to the staff room. Iruka-sensei, it seems, knows everyone and their mother. There is not one person that doesn’t greet him, which also means there’s not one person that doesn’t stare at him before they remember themselves and bow with a slightly high ‘Uchiha-sama’. He’s hopeful when they enter the staff room, as Iruka-sensei says he’s only here to get coffee and that this will therefore likely be a brief trip. His hopes are rigorously dashed when he sees how long it takes the coffee machine to spit out something that looks like black tar, and shakes his head forcefully when offered a cup. Drinking that will probably give him a caffeine induced heart attack, and he’s not quite ready to die yet thank you very much.

 

Madara is a surprisingly reticent man, Iruka thinks, for all the screaming and shouting he’s heard in the tower. The Uchiha looks a little uncomfortable in the staff room, so he takes mercy on the man and guides him outside into the woods once he’s grabbed his bento (which has been left untouched in the staffroom fridge, they all know better than to fuck with him) and settles on a fallen tree. His offer to share the onigri is met with a tense “No, thank you”, but Madaras loudly rumbling stomach has him insisting. Iruka lays half of the contents of the bento on its lid, which he sets on the floor for the Uchiha. When Madara glares at him for it, Iruka puts on his most polite face and says: “I have nothing against it, if eating from my hand would be preferable to you.” Eyes widen in alarm as the Uchiha huffs and shakes his head, growling under his breath. Iruka tries not to grin in triumph as he watches how the man approaches his food. Eating with as a dog is evidently not something he has done before, and his ginger efforts to chew almost have Iruka laughing. Madara huffs at him again before shifting so that all Iruka can see is his back, before resuming his meal.

 

Madara has a problem. He shifts nervously when the sensei reclaims his now bare bento lid (eating as a dog is rather difficult and undignifying, he had almost totally dismissed the food). He contemplates how to voice his dilemma, and decides he’ll say nothing more than what is necessary. “I’ll return in a moment, excuse me.” It garners a raised eyebrow, but he says no more and walks further into the woods until he can neither see, hear nor smell the other man. Now, how do dogs relieve themselves? He’ll admit he’s feeling rather awkward and a little stuck. The thought of just… lifting his leg and  **going for it** has him cringing. What if it gets on his fur? He does  **not** want to spend the rest of the day smelling of urine. So he does what he deems the most logical solution to his problem, and digs a hole. Once he deems it deep enough, he lies down and closes his eyes and tries to relax. Kami, but he can’t wait for this day to be over! Never before (as shy as he is) has relieving himself been so awkward, though be manages after a good fifteen minutes.

 

Iruka almost giggles when he spies the dirt and leaf litter among Madaras belly fur. He’s well aware how uncomfortable urinating as a dog is, it’s one of the reasons cats are his preferred henge. He says not a word of what he thinks, and instead silently accompanies the Uchiha back to the Academy. Madara looks relieved that they’re in class before the students, if the way he darts back under Irukas’ desk is anything to go by. He doesn’t move an inch until the final bell of the day rings. Iruka aimes his voice for polite but firm when he says: “I’m due for a shift in the Mission Room in an hour. I assume Uchiha-sama is not to accompany me. If it’s alright, I plan on stopping for dinner at Ichiraku’s. Would you like me to leave you with Tobirama-sama?” Madaras’ ears flick back, and his proposal is more of a command, “Hashirama’s house would be better.” 

 

His best friend is a prick in disguise as a loveable sunshine shrubbery fairy, and Madara is not fooled. “Madara!” Is squealed in his ear when the great buffoon scoops him up, muscular arms hooking under his own, and proceeds to crush him to his chest as if he were no more than a stuffed animal. “Let me go, idiot Senju.” It’s meant to be a shout, but his lungs have been thoroughly compressed and it comes out as more of a pathetic wheeze. He can’t bite the over enthusiastic fuck in this position, and therefore has to wait until Mito appears and comes to his rescue by laying a hand on her husbands shoulder. “I do not think he appreciates being hugged in his current state, Anata.” Madara narrows his eyes at the witch, he does not like hugs in any way, shape or form ever. “Oh but he’s so soft! Feel his fur Mito!” He’s whirled around and dragged into the Senju house to be dropped before the Uzumaki like a particularly large gift. Mito is about to decline, when her husband spots Madaras escort on the doormat: “Oh! Hello! You must be Iruka-sensei, Tobi said he left Madara with you. Thank you for looking after him. Are you his boyfr- OW!” Madara never wants to hear those words from Hashiramas mouth, especially in regards to a man he hardly knows. He grips his idiot friends hand firmly (much too firmly) in his jaws and drags the stupid twerp toward the kitchen. He clearly hears the witch bidding the Chuunin-sensei good night, before she shuts the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to make the paragraphs a little smaller, hope it helps. I appreciate feedback, so don't be afraid to let me know what you really think.


	4. Pod

It’s Sunday morning, and Iruka is up relatively early. He’s not working today, but he has other things to do. Special, family tradition kind of things. He’s going to leave Madara be for the day, Hashirama early in the morning when one is still half asleep is more of a punishment than any prank he could pull on short notice. That’s not to say Iruka is finished with him, far from it actually. He just needs time to be still and plan ahead. And perhaps to reminisce about his success thus far. Genma had laughed himself sick when Kotetsu had told him Madara had been “a real bitch to deal with this afternoon” following the dog incident.

 

Iruka has rolled out of bed, had a shower and gotten dressed in the bottoms of his Blacks and an old tank top. He leaves the house carrying a small leather satchel, in which rests his weapons and a storage scroll containing a horse brush and a towel. Kotetsu and Izumo wave lazily from the gate house as he exits Konoha and makes a quick leap for the trees. He is going to a place that has been sacred to him since he was a child, and is one of the few places he can clearly remember spending time with his parents. He travels for a good hour before meeting the Naka river, and two more hours following one of its tributaries up to a dark secluded lake. He strips himself bare when he reaches the shore, unseals the brush and steps into the cool water. When he’s waded chest deep, he stops and waits patiently

 

Madara is making first move today. He’s had quite enough of being fucked around by now. He wakes as a human -thank kami- on the idiot Senjus couch. The fool had almost dragged him into bed with him and the witch as if Madara were some fluffy plush toy. He’s left several deep bite marks on the mans arm as retribution for so much as thinking of cuddling. He’s out the door at the ass crack of dawn, long before that oaf wakes. Madara is an Uchiha on the warpath, and his prankster is going to pay. Sleep has cleared his head, and there are some things that are adding up a little too perfectly. Umino is not everywhere at once, but he’s never far from Madara when something embarrassing happens. He’s too much of a Shinobi to believe it coincidence, and  **far** too petty not to follow up. 

 

He’s grinning to himself as he roots around in the filing cabinets of the Administration building “Umino, Umino, Umino - AH! Found you!” He snatches the file out of the cabinet and flips the manila folder open with a gleefully showy flick. Sometimes he  **really** enjoys his high clearance. The picture confirms that this is the Chuunin he’s looking for, and below the name, place of birth, affiliation and rank is the mans address. Madara returns the folder to its rightful place, and cannot help the slightly maniacal laugh that escapes him when he slams the cabinet shut with a bang that echoes down the halls. He is smiling broadly as he leaves the building, and the Flunkies all but leap out of his way. He hasn’t been this excited since he discovered just how satisfying it is to beat Hashirama over the head with a rolled up newspaper like the eternally misbehaving puppy he is.

 

Madaras timing is  **perfect** , and he catches the Chuunin just as the man is leaving his apartment. He’s trailing two minutes behind out the gate, but still has his prey in his sights when they enter the forests surrounding Konoha. They travel for a good three hours, and Madara is beginning to suspect the man of treachery when they stop at the shores of a lake. He’s… never been here before, and is honestly regretting it a little.A thin veil of mist hangs over the water and stops a few meters from the sandy shore. There are Mangrove trees growing further along the bank and quite a distance into the water, and he’s a little surprised because he hadn’t known trees like that even  **grew** here.

 

He circles around and alights on one of the low hanging branches, half hidden by vines that fall to drag in the water, and he watches… And what he sees has blood rushing up -his face is probably spectacularly pink-, his prankster is  **stripping** and oh gods he’s  **going all the way** . Madara wants to avert his eyes, but knows better lest the man disappear. What Umino does next has him frowning. Why on earth has the man brought a horse brush… Movement in the water below him draws his attention, and the Uchiha receives a face full of water. There’s another hissed rushing sound and ripples on the lake, and a dark pinkish grey fin breaks the water. Madara almost falls of the branch in his shock,  **there are dolphins in the lake** !

 

The botos greet him with soft nudges, and they utter the clicks and whistles that represent his name. He’s been meeting them since before he could speak, knows their names in their tongue as well as he know his own. He greets them one by one as his mother taught him, speaks their language as fluently as he can manage with a body not made to do so. They have missed him, and eagerly embrace him when he wades deeper. 

 

There is a brush against his side, and this one is  **his** river dolphin. They are the same age exactly, born together here in this lake. “Hello Tsuin.” He rubs along Tsuins’ back, fingers trailing over smooth, thick skin. His twin is darker than the rest of the pod, muddy grey instead of dusky rose, and Tsuin butts against his stomach and fires rapid pulsing clicks. Iruka channels chakra through his hands and into the dolphins body. This is their ritual, using sound and ninjutsu to evaluate each others wellbeing. Once Tsuin is happy and has confirmed that all is as it should be, he rolls over and offers Iruka his belly. The Chuunin is careful not to put too much force behind the horse brush, and scrubs just as his mother taught him while he and Tsuin ‘talk’.

 

Madara has activated his Sharingan to confirm that his eyes are not lying, and there is no Genjustsu. The tomoe spin slowly as he absorbs the scene before him. Despite what the Uzumaki witch might say, Madara recognises a private moment when he sees one -he just chooses to ruin some for his own amusement- and this one looks like family. The way the animals behave, it’s almost as if this has been happening for years. There is a familiar closeness in their interactions, and he can hear squeaks, clicks and whistles from where he sits on his branch. He can also see with the perfect clarity of the Dojutsu how the Chuunin  **replies** . The sounds aren’t perfect, but they’re evidently enough to get the message -whatever it may be- across. 

 

The Uchiha watches in entranced silence as the Chuunin pets and scrubs the river dolphins. It’s a personal moment, but he cannot tear his eyes away. Cannot help but record every interaction, every slow stroke and gentle nudge. He feels a little like a pervert when he cannot help but notice how pretty his prey is. Not perfect, but he likes it. Tan skin over strong muscles, not built as broad as Madara but wide enough to make him look just a little stocky. Strong and stable, and Madara  **likes it** .There are scars too, large and small, bright and faded. One in particular draws his eye, and it’s massive. It spans Uminos back, resting between his shoulder blades and crossing his spine. Madara is surprised he’s alive, let alone walking.

  
He decides he’s had enough. Madara leaves quietly, circling back around the lake. He casts a last glance at the Chuunin in the water before sprinting silently through the trees in the direction of Konoha and hardly pauses when he reaches the gates. The first place he goes is home to his koi pond, where he sits with toes in the water for what must be hours. Izuna joins him, a little wary and just out of grabbing range. He says nothing to his sibling, and just shrugs and shakes his head when Izuna asks him why he’s so quiet. Madara is no fool. He saw the big fat  **deceased** next to the names of Uminos parents in the file. Saw the date and knows the cause. Guilt is a heavy burden, unfamiliar in its weight. Madara did what he thought was right at the time, and because of his actions all the family that the Chuunin has left are in that lake. There’s not a living relative left and Madara feels a little sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where'd all the funny go? Oops...


End file.
